Throw Mayflowers At You
by creamtea-with-a-madman
Summary: Sherlock finally meets John's friends, more or less willingly. With relationship problems included, acting is not the key anymore. Sherlock, at last, wants to stick the gay up their noses. But John begs to differ, as ever. As if John hadn't already made enough wrong choices, joining the army being one of the too many silly examples. AU in da hood. May have traces of feels...
1. Chapter 1: bread cannot butter me

**Disclaimer: I can't say I own Sherlock, but I gotta admit the Johnlock is strong in this one.**

**Please enjoy, it is my mission to make you happier. And please tell me if the mission was successful or failed, I'd love to read your opinions. Thank you!**

**Anyway, enjoy! Won't spam you any further. **

* * *

„Hell, yeah." Sherlock exclaimed, his countenance saying the complete opposite. "This is gonna be so fun-"

John mustered Sherlock suspiciously, then sighed as the irony shone through. "Sherlock, is this so much to ask of you? It's only for 4 days; we'll be back by Tuesday."

"We could do so much in these for days- I could solve so many crimes and you ask me to go with you for a stupid friends meet up- thing." Sherlock sighed. "Tell me, why did I consent again?"

"You know exactly why." John grinned flirtatiously. "Or did you forget?"

"John, you use my animalistic needs against me, it's not fair."

"All the time you have manipulated me, I think I deserve my share." John nodded.

Sherlock huffed. "John, you know- we've only got a week left, I don't want to spend that time with these imbeciles, I want to spend it with you. Can't you see?"

Sherlock's eyes softened as he glared at John attentively. "I want to be with you as long as I can, until you go."

"I know, Sherlock, it's just- they haven't seen me for long and-"

"So it's me against them, wasn't it? And you chose them?"

"They're my friends, Sherlock; I can't leave them hanging like that. There's no other chance-"

"Alright." Sherlock snapped for air fiercely. "I will come."

"You will?"

"Yes, every second without you I would regret. Even if that means I get to spend time with utter dicks, you included."

"Oh, to hear such dirty language out of your illustrious mouth." John mocked.

"Its illustriousness has its reasons." Sherlock smirked. "You know precisely what I mean."

* * *

Their things were soon packed neatly into a few bags, Sherlock taking up the biggest space, not really to John's surprise. Sherlock never went anywhere without all his belongings, getting rid of something Sherlock held dear proved itself very difficult. Even if it were for a banana skin that he had found a liking for.

Sherlock hesitatingly took John's hand as they seated themselves, their stuffs already squeezed into the back of the cab. This was going to be a long and boring ride.

"John, how long is this going to take again?" Sherlock asked, all the while shuffling closer to John, thinking about what way they'd be the most comfortable in. Once more, this ride was going to take a while.

"A while."

"That's what I just thought, moron." Sherlock made a dramatic gesture with his hands. "In hours, please. I really want to know how much time I have to spend in this shit-hole, no offence."

The cabbie-rider rolled his eyes, but fortunately didn't seem to mind much, since they drove on for two other hours before they finally got to their destination. And the old man didn't say a word.

"We here yet?" Sherlock asked, his head situated snugly on John's lap.

"Sherlock it's two minutes from now, you'll surely survive without asking me-"

"Every five minutes?" Sherlock grinned. "Won't happen again, I promise."

"Well, that's not a hard promise to make, is it?" John mirrored Sherlock's expression.

The taxi suddenly stopped, which left Sherlock moaning complaint.

"I thought you wanted to get out of this 'shit-hole' as quickly as possible." John raised his right eyebrow.

"Yes, no- you're just so comfortable to rest on, that's all." Sherlock yawned. "And I don't want to meet up with your folks, not really."

"We'll make it through, you'll see. I'm with you, there's nothing to worry about." John's eyebrow retreated back. "We'll be fine."

"If you say so." Sherlock smiled at John bravely. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

The most tents were already placed all around the fireplace, but a few people were still busy with fighting against them, rolling their way out or, the most popular alternative, screaming.

It definitely was fun to look at, but Sherlock wasn't quite sure if he wanted it for himself. Tents were a dreadful business. At least he was smarter than the average, so there was a minimal chance they would turn out to be alive after all.

"Hey, mate, you're already there." A muscular man said, same age as John, studying sports, happy about initiated break-up with girlfriend, homoph-. Stop it. Sherlock shouldn't do his thing here, he had been told so by John repeatedly.

"Yes, hey- Gerd." John smiled up at the man. "How are things going with you and Lisa?"

"We broke up." He smiled. "She had a problem with me and me with her, problem solved."

John laughed as Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together. If this really was John's sense of humour, then there was reason to be concerned.

"Gerd, this is Sherlock- my, colleague-"

"Hello, Sherlock, the colleague. You two at med school together?" Gerd smirked wildly, happy to see his old friend again.

"Erm- yeah, we're in the same course." John laughed nervously.

Say WHAT? The last thing Sherlock would ever consider to do was go to med school, thank you very much. But Sherlock could already put one and two together in his mind, it was obvious.

He would have to play along.

"Yes, he thought he could bring me around for the party, coz I'm all alone over the weekend. We share a flat." Sherlock avoided eye-contact with John. "I gotta say, 'tis nice here. Did well in finding this place."

"Yes, nice, ain'it?" Gerd grinned self-confidently. "It's my father's."

Sherlock nodded to himself, pleased at his own intelligence. It was so easy to make oneself popular around people, so stupidly easy. That's why Sherlock preferred the alternate path, communication at minimum, only with John.

But he couldn't apply that method here.

"Well, where do we go then?" John asked, a wave of relief taking over his breath.

"Right there on the left, I already built your tent."

This time it was Sherlock's turn to be relieved. No tent, no harm done.

"Good, just unload your stuff there, see you in a sec."

"Where at?" Sherlock asked, ruffling his hair. "And thanks, by the way." He grinned.

"Just at the fireplace, it's gettin' dark, so-" His eyebrows danced a jig. "You know what that means."

* * *

Sherlock smiled at Gerd another time, before turning around, his face falling into a stoic expression. Not waiting for one word from John he made his way to the tent, no word escaping his mouth either.

He threw his and John's possessions in the tent and then clapped his hands together. "What a jolly good time we are going to have, hm?"

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John asked, all sorrow and tissues.

"You know what's off John. I accept that you didn't tell your parents about this."

"So?"

"I don't accept that you didn't tell your friends. Now that that's clear, let's play all happiness and glee, shall we?" Sherlock's face was now covered in an invisible mask, a perfectly happy face shown on one side and the other seemingly the same. "You always tell me to have some fun, so let's have that, hm-? You're my best friend and we should enjoy life."

John tried to intervene, but Sherlock was already out of the door/ tent.

"Sherlock, look, I'm sorry, alright?" John said, trying to keep track of Sherlock's feet.

"You- sorry, what could you feel sorry for? Everything is completely fine, there's no need to worry." Sherlock giggled. "I can feel the life in my veins, John. Isn't that just wonderful?"

"What the hell are you talking about-?"

"Oh, hello- how are we today?" A petite girl said, her bangs flicking against her head in a very non-arousing way that she thought was the epitome of erection. "Oh hello, Mr. Handsome."

She bit her lip and glared at Sherlock.

"Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" He asked- knowing that gentleman-like behaviour would certainly turn her on.

She giggled. "Arlene, you?"

"Sherlock Holmes, at your service." He grinned broadly at her and then bowed, afterwards seating himself directly next to her.

"He knows his game, that Sherlock bloke." Gerd said, gesturing for John to seat himself next to him. "I tried chatting her up all night, didn't I Ermer?"

Ermer nodded. "-to no use. He must be very good."

John gulped; he knew that Sherlock was very good. More than very good.

"Yeah, we've been friends for a long time now." John said, as he noticed Sherlock's eyes on him through the fire. The indescribable, beautiful colour showing all the emotions he usually kept well hidden. It only lasted for a second, but it was enough for John. Sherlock was more off then he let shine through.

"I didn't know, you never mentioned him before." Gerd said with his drink warm in his hands.

Sherlock paused shortly in his speech, but then returned his attention back to Arlene again, even more attentive than before. Nonetheless not without giving his finger-nails a good glance first.

"So how are things going with you and Sarah, you both still together?" Gerd asked.

"Oh- yes, Sarah." John lowered his voice, uncomfortable with lying. "Yeah, we're still together, things are going great. It's sad that I have to join the army, it's our 2-year anniversary soon, so-"

The next thing John saw was Arlene sitting on her own, a certain tall boy nowhere to be seen.

"Did I do anything wrong?"

* * *

Again, please tell me what you thought, I will send love to everyone who writes one and to hell with it I bloody love everybody who has even taken up the time to read this, I'll just send love to all.

Afternoon!


	2. Chapter 2: baking is not an advantage

**Disclaimer: Life is already pretty fun but it would be better if I owned the Sherly**

**Another chapter, deal with it. (Hope you have fun it with it instead tho ;D)**

**Did you bloody see the last episode, good god, it was brilliant, but the last part just ripped my heart out. It was amazing and funny and AHAHA, drunk Sherlock and John, I KHAN'T. **

**Well, now that I have scared you lot off, please enjoy! I would be delighted. **

* * *

"Lord, no, you didn't do anything wrong, Arlene, I-." John gasped. "Shit, how do I-. I better go after him and see if he's alright."

The others nodded, as a few of them went to fetch some more beer. "Don't be late, d'you hear me? Army's not the place to start you gettin' drunk- we wouldn't wanna let you go without a hella proper goodbye, eh?"

John nodded in return, ignoring the ghastly stench that came out of their direction. Another reason to leave for Sherlock quickly.

* * *

"Sherlock, Sherlock- where are you?" John exclaimed, searching the wood for a sign of life from- Oh, there he was. "Sherlock? Sherlock, are you okay?" John stepped closer to Sherlock, who was back then standing against a tree, trying to recover his senses, cigarette in hand but not yet lightened.

"Me? I'm fine- splendid." Sherlock mustered John and then rolled his eyes. "Or, do you want me maintain the conversation by asking you how you are?"

"No, you're getting it wrong, Sherlock. Don't you see-?"

"Now, I think that you're the one that's getting things wrong, _John_. See, I don't know much about romantic attachments, but I'm sure this is not the way they're supposed to go."

"How are they supposed to go then?"

"You told me once that being in love means that the other person can make you feel happy with yourself, that you feel good, right. That was the moment I noticed, I loved you. But this isn't it, John. I do not feel appreciated. I'm your bloody boyfriend, John and I want the entire world to hear it."

Sherlock sighed. "But there's no need to get worked up, is there? The only one who knows about this relationship despite from us is my part of the family and you evidently want it to stay that way."

"What do you want me to do then, hm? I will lose all my friends if I spread the word, do you want that? Do you really want-"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Sherlock said slowly, concentrating on John's eyes.

"But-"

"Your friends aren't your real friends if they don't accept you for who you are. Whether or not you tell them isn't my choice, but I can tell you something. You will see who your true friends are, John, if you only were to-"

"No, I won't. I love you, but I-"

"I have been a good enough actor. Now, if you'll excuse me- please shut up, so I can have a smoke."

John eyed Sherlock's cigarette, and the fragile hands that held it, suspiciously. "Sherlock, please don't smoke. You know, it's bad for your-"

"Don't bloody tell me what to do." Sherlock took a deep shuddering breath. "I will continue this little game, I will stay, what do you want me to do next? You're leaving for army; you're gone for so long- maybe even an eternity. You might die in there and you still want me to-"

Sherlock stilled. "Please."

"Sherlock, I will make everything up to you, I promise. Everything and more if you just keep your mouth shut for 3 other days, Jesus. We will get through this-"

"I'm not sure I want to, Dear John. This is nothing you could make up for, it's humiliating. I'm ashamed, John, I don't know where this will go."

John stood silent for a moment, trying to form words, but the tension inside of him was too high to form any coherent sentence.

"Right, now that we're done here, please stay this way, so I can have my well-deserved smoke." Sherlock said.

"What way?"

Sherlock huffed. "Silent, but you do not seem to get that."

* * *

They soon returned to the fireplace, no other word spoken on their way. They both still had a lot on their minds, but they would evoke too much attention by staying away that long. And John couldn't stand the slightest attention, could he?

"Hey, guys, you're just about time for the next beer-shift, would you mind getting some out of my van?"

"Nope, no problem." Sherlock shuddered inwardly over the incomplete language that seemed to be essential around here. "I can go alone, but the car won't open itself..."

Gerd threw his keys over to Sherlock.

"I can come as well, Sherlock. You would surely-"

"I can go alone, John." Sherlock mustered John disparagingly. "I had hoped you had gotten that by now."

"Yes, sure."John smiled feignedly. "Then I can go back to my friends again."

"Friends, - sure." Sherlock shook his head as he made his way into temporary freedom. John could be so dense for being his boyfriend. Sherlock didn't know how long he would survive, out there.

He simply hoped that John would retreat back to his senses.

"You sure he's fine, John?" Asked Arlene, as Fred and George got their firework- utensils out of their bags and started preparing for tomorrow.

"He always is." John gulped away the knot in his throat. He hated knowing that all of this was his fault.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Arlene replied, eyeing John attentively. "He's special, John, I wouldn't want you to lose him."

"But, we're not actually a couple-"

"Oh,-he told me otherwise." She smirked. "Don't you worry; I've always had a soft spot for your sort. I just didn't know you were-"

"Shut up, what if the others hear you?"

"He would be delighted." Arlene giggled at Sherlock, whose silhouette was already able to be made out in the back. "Pity that the good ones are always gay, don't you think?"

"Well, I wouldn't have anything to complain, would I?" John grinned.

"I had almost forgotten." She smiled at John, but then glared at him. "You better set things right again, Mister. I don't want him to-"

"Hello!" Sherlock yelled, still a few metres apart from them. "Missed me?"

"Rather missed the beer." Ermer said, smiling. "But you're not bad either."

* * *

John lay inside of his sleeping back, staring at Sherlock's back. Sherlock had been too anxious to make himself comfortable in one, so he rather slept on his mat. Coldness was better than feeling nothing.

They hadn't exchanged another word since the woods, something Sherlock in particular was very proud of. He wanted to let John feel that he was wrong. He knew it was a bit egoistic, but John didn't behave in any way different.

The problem was that Sherlock wanted things to be the same again, the same as they always were. They hadn't been together for long, but Sherlock knew it was special. If someone ever touched his heart it was either the devil or John Watson, no one else.

And when one half of these two left for war, he would be alone, with the devil.

Sherlock shuddered. 6 days until John left.

John stretched out his arm in Sherlock's direction, feeling the coldness of the room outside his little bag. "Sherlock, please-"

"John: This is not the place to start your molestation; I do not want to be touched. Not now."

"Sherlock, I merely wanted to-"

"And I don't, alright? It doesn't seem right."

John sighed disappointedly. "You have to get warmer, Sherlock. You'll catch a cold."

"So, what?"

"So; everything. Do you want to spend the last days with me, freezing and shivering all over? Or do you want to have a nice time."

"I'm not sure whether or not this qualifies as a nice time."

John huffed. "Well, whether you like it or not, you have to get inside that bloody thing." John pointed at the mulch that lay on the other side of the tent.

The both of them lay in silence for a few minutes, either of them contemplating about what the other might think. It wasn't an easy silence, nor a comfortable one. One that Sherlock was ever so tempted to break.

"John, John?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I might- you know, bunk in?" Sherlock said hesitatingly. "With you?"

"Erm- sure?" John said, smiling to himself. "What made you change your mind?"

"I didn't."

* * *

Please review for some love and cookies, I will place them in front of your bed. So if you wake up the next morning, feel loved. (But only in the symbolic way, I'm not a stalker)


	3. Chapter 3: gingerbreads have souls

Disclaimer: DUNDUN-DUNNN... don't own, loves.

Hello there, addicted people. This is a very wee and shitty chapter, but I hope you're going to enjoy it nevertheless. If you don't, then don't pretend and just tell me what way I can work my butt off for improving this.

I'm in a halfway decent mood at the moment, so what other way to celebrate than another chapter? Hooray! *feelin' good*

Anyhow, be happy today, loves. And don't forget to wear warm wooly socks to keep your feet happy.

* * *

And so it happened to be that Sherlock and John should be found cuddling in a sleeping bag the next morning, hugged tight together, no matter what the circumstances were. They could fight afterwards, as long as they didn't have to sleep alone and back to back to each other. Their problems could be discussed later on.

Nevertheless, they had another problem now. This being the person who had found them in this rather peculiar situation. Ermer.

"Erm- guys, I'm meant to wake you up, we'll be eatin'-." Ermer blinked as he finally took in the situation, realization hitting him hard at the innocent sight that lay before him. "-okay, uh, are you guys- you're not actually-?"

"Hmm...?" Sherlock murmured sleepily, nuzzling his mouth back into John's hair again, completely content. " 's what?"

"Wait, so, you're- correct me if I'm wrong, but are you, guys,- cuddling?"

"Cuddling, me?" John mumbled and then grinned sheepishly in his sleep, still not fully awake. "Never ever, d'we Sherly?"

"Hmmm? - y' confuse me."

Ermer's face almost screamed ERMERGERD. He was in shock, fully wholly in shock, and then- he just laughed. "Haha, man- why didn't you tell me before?"

"Tell you what?" John said, opening his eyes a slit, sleep letting lose its grip on him a little.

"That you're queer? Man, I gotta tell Arlene, she's gonna go nuts."

Now John ripped open his eyes in shock, letting go of Sherlock. Shit, this was exactly how it wasn't supposed to happen, shit, shit, shit. He should have woken up a lot earlier. "No, we're not- I'm not." John shifted away from Sherlock, his whole body in denial.

"You're gay John." Sherlock said, his voice muffled. "Get along with it."

"Yes, you have so much empathy for a bo- uh, friend." John stuttered.

"See, you said it yourself." Ermer grinned. "There you have it. Arlene is going to be so happy."

"She already is." John replied grumpily."Thanks to him."

"She knew about this all along? Why didn't she tell me? She knows she ought to let me know about the good ones."

Sherlock grinned in his sleeping bag, satisfied with the day's beginning. "That's because you're gay too, am I right? Or at least bisexual, measuring by your-"

"Shut up for one second, will you? Even when you're half asleep, you still manage to be a complete dickhead."

"John." Sherlock whispered. "We both know that I will always be a dickhead. Your extraordinary dickhead."

John tried to ignore Sherlock, but the internal laughing got too hard to bear. "Screw you and your- dickheads. Why do I love you again?"

"Because I'm sexy, that's why. And clever. You'd simply be lost without me, wouldn't you, love?"

John hardly suppressed a laugh and then made an exaggerated sigh. "I would be nothing and less."

Ermer simply left the tent happily, after not having been spoken to for about five minutes, but not without being interrupted by Sherlock once more. "Was I right then? About the gay?"

"Yes, I am queer too, happy now?" Ermer shouted back at them.

But he didn't get a reply. The only thing he could hear was giggling.

"Guess what's in my head right now." Sherlock dared John.

"No idea... hint, pretty please?"

"Tell you something, it stars off a d- and ends with –ick."


	4. Chapter 4: the smell of dough

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock... damn disclaimer *grumpies the hell out of here***

**Hello, lovely readers, I hope you have/ had a wonderful day and that the odds may ever be in your favour. I don't really have much to say about this chapter apart from the obvious. I wrote it (surprise) **

**Anyway, please read and review so I know how to improve this little piece of shenanigans. Thanks very much and please enjoy! ;)**

* * *

John crawled completely back into the sleeping bag again, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. He kissed him gently on the neck, a slight shiver gliding over Sherlock's skin. This was absolutely perfect.

"John, I'm sorry to be a nuisance, but you do know what this means, don't you?" Sherlock asked.

"I think so." John smiled. "But I have no problem with it... as long as it is just him- and Arlene."

"Well, c'est le problème, John. He will most likely tell everybody else, including Gerd."

John sighed softly. "Can't we stop him, somehow?"

"I don't know, we could try telling him not to, but I don't think that that will have a longer lasting effect on him than for a few hours. "

"Well, a few hours are certainly better than nothing." John grinned. "And now shut up, so I can kiss you."

"What if I don't?" Sherlock coaxed.

"Your charms are irresistible." John giggled. "I'm going to kiss you anyway, whether you like it or not."

"But that's mouth-rape." Sherlock protested, his lips twitching upwards in amusement.

"I don't care." John said hoarsely, afterwards pressing his lips onto Sherlock's. His charms weren't the only thing irresistible about Sherlock, his lips were too. Too inviting to ever not be kissed.

* * *

A few minutes later John left the tent rapidly, careful not to make the usual impression of an idiot, as Sherlock sometimes put it, and not evoke too much attention.

Ermer. Ermer. Ermer. He must be somewhere surely? It's not possible for a person to just vanish, so the odds shouldn't be against John. Shouldn't be.

Sherlock was still in the sleeping bag, releasing a sigh of contempt and disdain. Contempt against standing up, disdain against leaving his perfect warm hole for the shockingly fresh air of nature. Standing up would forever be Sherlock's least favourite thing to do.

John saw Ermer standing at the fireplace, just about to talk to Gerd. Now, that was the perfect moment to intrude. Before Ermer could give anything away.

Sherlock too left the tent after a while, afterwards striding for the fireplace, as he saw a discussion evolving. And when he saw certain person involved, Sherlock was sure something must be going on.

"Everything you can tell Ermer, you can tell me too." Gerd stated, as if he had repeated it a thousand times before. Which he probably had, judging by his annoyed features. "We don't have any secrets, not around here, fella."

"But- it's very important. You see- it's about-"

Just as Gerd was about to repeat his catchphrase again, Sherlock came, like a god-send angel. Or well, at least to the shorter part of the population.

"Am I missing something, what is going on?"

"Oh, it's not that important, it's just-." John started.

"Well, if it's not that important then I believe that you can aid me with the breakfast now." Sherlock eyed John amusedly. "Or is that a problem for either of you?"

John wasn't the first to say heeeell, no.

* * *

After their well-prepared breakfast, Gerd stood up to tell the programme of the day to the entire group of 13 people. "Guys, you know that li'lle lake of my fathers, let's go."

Well, so much for programme. But at least there was something to do.

"Ermer, Ermer?" John said his voice below a whisper. "Would you mind not telling Gerd or the others about our little complications?"

"Wha- complications?" Ermer said, confused.

"He means if you're able to shut up about the fact that we're gay." Sherlock grinned smugly.

"Oh, alright, I guess I can." Ermer nodded. "If that makes you feel any be'er."

"It sure does, thank you very much." John smiled at Ermer. "You're a good pal."

"You too." Ermer grinned back and then left for Gerd. This was going to be an adventure.

But not for Sherlock.

"John, you should know that I consider myself married to my towel and while I'm flattered by the lake's interest to eat me up alive, I really don't-"

"Oh, Sherlock. Don't be such a sissy." John nagged. "And anyway, you could join me. Imagine, the water flowing down my body, nothing between us than-"

"Alright, alright. " Sherlock shook his head. "As long as you don't paste me full with sun cream again."

"You need that sun cream, look at you. I wouldn't want your perfect marble skin to look like an ape's bottom."

"Fiiiiiiine." Sherlock sighed. "Can you even grasp how annoying you can be at times?"

"One of the many reasons you love me, eh?" John grinned, packing up their stuff for swimming. "And if you don't take care of yourself yourself, who else is going to do the job?"

"Don't tell me I wouldn't survive without your help, John." Sherlock scoffed. "I can surely manage without it."

Sherlock paused for a second, thinking hard. The next phrase hardly a whisper. "Doesn't mean I want to though."

* * *

John laughed out loud at Sherlock's disgusted face when entering the water, a cold breeze decorating their bodies with goose bumps.

"John." Sherlock said, shivering. "Why am I doing this?"

"Because even geniuses have to see the sun sometimes."

"Well, I don't see the sun, do you?"

John sighed. "That's not what I meant, idiot. You have to go out sometimes, nature's good for you."

"And in what way may you-brashhaerhwelrwgrrm." Sherlock swallowed the water reluctantly, trying to free himself of John's sense of inappropriate humour. Or hands. "John, what was that for?"

"See? Nature's good for you. You just had an all-inclusive free body wash from the famous John Watson, popular beneath the- mwwgahsrsrarrgggrsa."

Sherlock laughed as John tried to pull out of water again. It seemed only fair. "Haha, revenge!"

"You didn't dare to." John yelled, cupping his hands and showering Sherlock with splashes of water which should only be returned even more fiercely. Minutes passed that felt like hours, until Sherlock finally gave in.

"There's an old German saying that the cleverer gives in. So I do." Sherlock shrugged, as he retreated back to the rim, letting his feet dangle in the water.

"The great Sherlock Holmes is giving up? Am I hearing things?" John followed.

"No, you're not. But you might see things soon, things beyond imaginable." He smirked.

"And what may that be?"

"I'll show you." Sherlock had a look around to see whether or not the area were clean. "Only, if you feel the need, of course."

"I always have urges when you're dirty-talking with me but it's usually subtext." John grinned.

Sherlock planted a kiss on John's nose. "Let the subtext come alive."

Sherlock's mouth wandered down to John's mouth, a hungry kiss taking all it could. John soon leaned in to Sherlock, his hand caressing Sherlock's face. Moans not able to be suppressed.

Things were taking quite the quick turn.

But this shouldn't be the last turn of the evening.

"Gerd, are you sure we're safe here-?"

" 'course. Now get your Turkish arse over here I want the evening to be-" Gerd's eyes widened as he noticed John. And John noticed him. All in all everybody noticed everybody.

And this had certainly not been the thing they had expected to see.


	5. Chapter 5: 221 B Bakery Street

**Disclaimer: SHE-SHE-SHEEEEEEEERLOCK... isn't mine *sniff* **

**Hello, les lovelies, I hope you had a wonderful day and that life treats you as it should.(MEANING LOVE, PEACE, SHEEEEEEERLOCK, DA WORLD IS GOOD AND YOU'RE COVERED IN BLANKETS AND THERE IS NO SHERLOCK HIATUS; NONONONONONONONONONONONONO, WHAT? I KHAN'T HEAR YOU!)**

**Sorry, I'm just a bit worked up. **

**Hehe, I had the title changed by my little brain minions into Gayflowers, but well... I may be immature, but not that MUCH, excuse you. so yeah, it looks fancier now, with the new cover and everything. Anyhow, hope you're going to enjoy and live a long and peaceful life.**

* * *

"Dayum, gurl-." Gerd exclaimed. "The heck?"

Ermer's facial expression took a strained turn, a smile trying to force its way up but sweeping itself off half-way through. "Erm- this is..."

"Interesting." Sherlock interrupted, unaware of the blush that crept over John's face. "Now, can we please carry on-"

"Sherlock!" John hissed, detaching his arm from Sherlock's arse, the situation not quite to his approval. "So..."

Gerd laughed openly. "We're gay- you're gay, things cool now?"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?" John asked, utterly confused by Gerd's statement. Gerd surely couldn't be- no, Gerd simply couldn't. Gerd wasn't gay, no Gerd was actually the opposite, this wasn't- John must have been delusional or something. "So, you're-"

"It was hardly a difficult deduction." Sherlock said, his smile broadening his already gigantic face.

"But I thought you were homophobic, that you didn't- don't you remember the time when you-" John stammered, his thoughts and the mass off them paralyzing him. He wasn't used to it, Sherlock reckoned.

"Well, I had- what you'd call a phase. Pretty silly, actually." Gerd coughed. "I'm sorry, it's just- I didn't want to be that way, I didn't ever intend to. Half of my brain was against me, it was weird. Plus, didn't want the others to get the idea, so- yeah. Sorry."

John nodded, most of him understanding it and the other part still intrigued by this peculiar situation. He lay his arm around Sherlock's hip again, evidence retreating to its place. The way it was supposed to be, the truth.

"Alright." Ermer grinned, obvious signs of relief cheering up his face. "Well, then. We should go; I guess. Now that we've sorted everything out...we've still got stuff to do, haven't we darling?"

Gerd immediately noticed Ermer's special tone of voice and his response was their very abrupt leaving the scene, searching for another place to spread destruction, with a spring in their steps.

"There they go, John. Literally fucking off."

John shook his head, but laughed either way. "What's happened to your language while you were here, Sherl?"

"It's your fault anyway." Sherlock said, nodding. "You have taught me a lot of bad things, this just happened to add up to your list. I'm not the only one to blame."

John rolled his eyes. "You're always the one to blame, 'Lock. You have no say whatsoever in this relationship."

"Don't I?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow rebelliously. "Would you be able to resist?"

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock leaned in closer, his hair still damp and drops of water dancing their way down Sherlock's chest. He pulled John back into the water again, but softly, his hands guiding John's way. "You asked for it."

Sherlock let a drop of water stay on his fingertips, afterwards letting it fall on John's forehead. That was the exact place he started off. Laying his hands around John's shoulders for comfort, he started to kiss down the trail that the raindrop had made, leaving John with shivers and a moan.

This was the most beautiful, wonderful thing John had ever seen or felt. But that was no surprise, Sherlock had always been.

As the raindrop ran to John's mouth, a warm sensation of excitement tingled John. He knew precisely what would come next.

"Ready to drop out yet?" Sherlock said, his voice husky.

"Not more than you seem to be." John smiled, feeling Sherlock's warm breath on his cheek.

And then, Sherlock's mouth finally moved places for the last time, resting on John's lips. The feeling was absolutely priceless, irresistible at most. Both their eyes closed instantly, as Sherlock took the last step.

This was love. Nothing more nothing less, just love. And it was breath-taking.

* * *

"I still wear the pants in this relationship." John stuttered, his breath yet in need of regeneration.

"We both occasionally wear pants. That's if you haven't noticed already." Sherlock mocked. "And you don't seem to keep your pants together for much longer."

"Bastard."

"Yes, afraid so." He smirked wickedly. "But a pretty gorgeous one too."

"Have to admit it." John smiled crookedly. "You moron."

It seemed none of them both wore the pants in their relationship. Well, at least not for now.

* * *

"Joooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohn, huh? Where is he?" Asked Fred, boiling to get things finally started. He and George had been waiting for this so long.

"Erm- I guess, he's gone with Sherlock, he's said something like that, they had a-" Ermer tried to back them up, but fortunately fate had it that they turned up sooner than he could embarrass them. "Ah!"

He jogged over to John and Sherlock, telling them that it would soon begin, but the both of them were still lost in conversation.

"But, you know, as I said- you really, really don't have to do this. You don't have to prove yourself to me, you don't have to do this for me either, I ask nothing."

"I know, Sherl. But this is no proof, this is for me-" John let his voice drop as he noticed Ermer. "Oh, hi."

"Hi guys. The redhead brothers are already very excited about this, so better hurry!"

"About what?"

"The fireworks!" John shouted in glee, leading a very flustered Sherlock by his hand.

This was a real blow to his dignity. Fireworks!? Sherlock scoffed, how exciting. He'd never understand the human race and their silly little fetishes.

"John, isn't this illegal?"

"Shut up."


	6. Chapter 6: dayum gurl, you gotta munch

**Disclaimer: To hell with it, Moffat owns, I'm merely decorating the show with garlands and glitter. **

**There you go with another chapter, my pretties. It's yours to decide whether you like it or not, but of course I'd be very happy if you did. If not, then deal ith it ;D I'm sorry that I always need such a long time to update, but it seems that's just me with my certain oodnesses. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"You are- serious?" Sherlock sighed, the space in between his eyebrows replaced by a deep frown. "Fireworks?"

"Yes, exactly." John beamed. "Why not?"

"It is an unnecessary pollution of our environment. Not that I'd care much, but isn't it fairly daft to blow chemicals into the air, merely so that you can watch them falling back down again? And anyway, you have to clean up the garbage afterwards. I'm really not looking forward to that."

"Relax, man. It's only fireworks. Good fun." Gerd stated, anticipation slowly turning him into a synonym of fangirl whenever the Sherlock unhiatus started once more. He really was excited.

Fred and George tattered like an old married couple, both of them complaining about the other. But mostly about how nothing ever went the way it should, preferably explosives. They should have asked their old homie Gandalf, he was the true professional in this area.

"John. You must know something..." Sherlock stammered, the words sitting on his tongue like a reluctant vampire toddler. They truly didn't want to see the light. "I'm-m scared."

"You're what-?" John asked. "Say that again, I must have misunderstood something."

"I'm scared, John." Sherlock said irritatedly. "I'm not scared often, as I think you are already familiar with- but, you know, I guess it's a childhood thing." A blush crept over his face, as reluctantly as mentioned toddler.

"You're-? I'm getting this right, you're scared- fireworks scare you?" John said disbelievingly. "But..."

"Everyone has their flaws, John. This is one of the only few I have; compared to you it's nothing." Sherlock said crossly.

"Oh, Sherlock. I'm not judging you, I -" John shook his head while smiling in disbelief, still not accepting that this could ever be possible.

"You seem like you do. Emotions aren't and have never been my thing, but I can read you either way. You're like an open book to me, John." Sherlock glared at John. "Moreover, you're _still_ my boyfriend."

"And what does that make me?"

"A complete and utter moron for staying with someone as arse-charactered me." Sherlock's face lightened up a very slight bit. "But I guess we're on the same level now, the pair of idiots."

John smiled an unsure smile. "Sherlock... I actually think it's cute. You know that, don't you?"

"That's what I am to you now? Cute? Alright, screw that. We're definitely not on the same level of idiotism." Sherlock smiled smugly, the arrogance sneaking its way into his brain yet again.

A corner of John's mouth rose. "Ah, back again, are we?"

Sherlock nodded, but took John's arm nonetheless. The slight tremor graciously ignored by John. "So, let the fun begin, shall we?" Asked Sherlock weakly, the sarcasm intact nonetheless.

"Alright. But really-" John whispered. "What makes you feel so scared of it? There's not much about it."

Sherlock bit his lip. "I'll tell you later, alright? It's quite the long story- and not one I'm comfortable with everyone here knowing."

John frowned for a second, but then seemed to be content with the answer. Something was better than nothing, especially out of Sherlock's mouth.

"Okay, but only if you swear on it."

"Oh, this is immature, John."

"Swear. On. It."

"Alright." Sherlock sighed. "I swear it on the love of god."

"You're an atheist."

"Exactly."

* * *

When the fireworks were finally over, everyone sighed happily. But for entirely different reasons.

Sherlock, for one, had never been so happy for anything else to die than these exploding hubbub- particles of doom. He experienced a little victory each time he looked at the ashes drowning in the wind, winding themselves but never finding their redemption. Until they simply ceased to exist in the darkness of the night.

What a jolly world we live in. Especially for Sherlock, now that the whole ordeal was literally gone with the wind.

"John, can we-"

"No." John searched for Sherlock's eyes in the dark. "You know, I have something to do."

"You sound as if you were going to kill someone." Sherlock chuckled.

"Maybe I am. Hehehehe." John suddenly stood exactly behind Sherlock, breathing into Sherlock's neck. "Who knows?"

But Sherlock didn't reply. He just stood there, completely limp. "Please-stop it."

"What? Sherlock, I was just having fun." John sighed. "But anyhow, Mrs. Drama Queen, I better get on with this shit now- before it's too late."

"Okay." Silence. "You better do that..."

"Yeah..."

* * *

"Guys, you've done a great job." Ermer grinned, warming his hands at the fire. "With the fireworks, I mean. Obviously."

"Thanks mate." Fred grinned. "We've done the best we could."

"Yeah, especially the big one- it was so cool. Like a big snake- skull thing. And I didn't expect it to be black, 't was a real surprise."

"Oh, we didn't make that one. Must have been the clouds, they're weird lately."

"Oh, okay." Ermer cleared his throat. "Anyhow, where's Bilbo-?"

"Guys, guys- listen to me please!" John suddenly raised his voice, right on cue. "Attention, please."

He waited for the others to quieten and then carried on. "I have an announcement to make; it's of a rather personal nature. I didn't want to withhold anything from you since I'll be gone to army soon, as y'all know."

A few moaned, but the biggest came from Sherlock who still didn't want to spend too much time thinking about this particular topic.

"Noo." Amy moaned. "Is she pregnant?"

"What? Who?" John's eyes widened in shook, as Sherlock simply smirked.

"Sarah, stupid." Amy shook her red head. "You've been with her for what, a-"

"Well, yes, I wanted to talk about that. Or rather something relating-"

"What? You are serious? She-"

"No." John sighed. Things were never easy with his friends, but he had never thought this thing to be so tremendously difficult. You could say they were rather of the late bloomers, when it came to the brains at least. This was such a Sherlock sentence to think of.

"It's about my friend here, Sherlock." John nodded in his direction, his hands desperately clinging to his t-shirt. "You see- I could make a speech or something, but hey! It's late now anyway."

John coughed. "I'm gay."


	7. Chapter 7: the toast of doom

"Aha."

What an eloquent answer. Sherlock sighed, he had really wished for a bit more mentally challenging dialogue-content. Or emotionally, it didn't matter. John just wanted this done and talked about, and then that would be that. So Sherlock naturally wanted it as well.

"_And_?" Sherlock asked impatiently, fidgeting with his hands in search for John's. At least John didn't seem to be the only one nervous about this situation.

"You're gay, so what? What am I to add to this?" Fred smiled into their direction, the fire lightening up his features. "Well, I don't know- maybe congratulations are in order? Whatever."

Fred and George swaggered into their direction and hands were shaken only seconds later. "Was this- the right thing to do?" George asked. Fred simply shrugged and so they retreated to their places, leaving John and Sherlock completely bewildered. This was not the reaction they had expected to witness.

The others just stood there, thinking. Wonderful.

"Oh my gerd! You're really-?" Amy asked excitedly, breaking the silence with her inability of grasping anything. "You're gay, together?"

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock now finally took John's hand, both of them relating on the other to be there and to hold tight.

"Oh! Oh! OH! I've always wished for gay best friends, you'd make the perfect two-"

"Erm, I think you're misunderstanding this-" John stuttered, not wanting to find himself in shopping malls and manicure booths for the rest of his life. "-we don't, we won't-"

Amy sighed, but grinned her Scottish smile. "Alright- but at least come and visit me every once in a while. And tell me everything."

John nodded, fearfully awaiting the rest.

Ermer simply gave the both of them a pat on the shoulder and then left.

"You're not going to say anything to this?" Rory asked sceptically.

"Don't need to. Already knew."

"Then why didn't you tell us before?"

"Because I am too. With that one moron over there." He pointed at Gerd. Silence fell.

"ERMERGERD!" Arlene suddenly couldn't suppress the urge of shouting out in glee.

"What?"

"What?" Asked Gerd, simultaneously with Ermer.

"So-" Arlene laughed. "Haha- I never knew I'd have so many gay friends once. I mean I knew about Sherlock and John, but this- wow."

"You've done great, you guys. All of you. I'm proud." She ran over to the four and hugged each, smiling all the way. Her smile was only outdone by Sherlock's. It wasn't really big, but it was there. And that meant a lot.

This is how the evening went on. Most of them reacted positively, a few were neutral and the ones that had something against it stood silent. John was still their friend, no matter what. Even if, in their perspective, he did something disgusting and abnormal.

And Sherlock, in a strange way, had turned out to be their friend as well. Not very closely, but he was. He was strange, yes, but it didn't matter. Everybody had their abnormalities by their own means. Sherlock simply had a few more.

* * *

John opened the tent swiftly, a satisfying 'Zwish!' following his movements. "Ladies first." He bowed.

Sherlock sighed, but went first anyway. John could do nothing more than stare at a certain body part of Sherlock's, when entering behind him. This should be a very enjoyable evening.

"John. I guess you want to speak to me about-." Sherlock was cut off by a hungry kiss. "John."

"All I want to do is you, right now." John said greedily, his self-control at minimum. Another kiss was more so forced onto Sherlock's mouth, helpless sounds escaping.

"John, I know, I want to too. It's just-" Sherlock tried to break away.

"Alright." John sighed disappointedly. "What is it then?"

"I thought you wanted to know about the fireworks, why I-." He gulped as he let himself down on the hard floor, still mumbling. "The reason, explanation why I'm so afraid."

John's whole composure changed abruptly, at once fully concentrated on his Sherlock. "Yes."

"I don't know how to say this- I'm just. Ugh- It goes deep down, feelings. I'm happy that you were there for me. Thanks."

"Sherlock, you're avoiding the subject." John tried to give Sherlock his bet reassuring smile. "Please-"

"Alright, alright- well, you know Mycroft, don't you?"

"Yes, of course, he's your brother. Why?"

"He's not the only brother I ever had. It's silly really, why am I even-"

"You wanted to, Sherl. And you started this conversation, so you better finish it."

"Okay, conversation dropped."

"Not in that way, idiot." John giggled, but looked into Sherlock's eyes sincerely.

Sherlock sighed exasperatedly. "Hmm- well. There was a time when we didn't know each other, right?"

"Yes? Of course."

"It's about 3 years ago, now. When we met. I was 16, you seventeen."

John nodded, not comprehending at all.

"Two years before, when I was 14, my brother was still alive. But not for longer."

"Are you saying- he was killed?"

"No, that's not it. He was 16 at the time. I knew he cut himself, but I didn't know he was so- I don't know, depressed. And why should he? There was no reason: our parents were never cruel, or hurt us, he never had problems in school. He was quite popular actually. Why didn't I-?"

"And what happened?" John asked, although a part of him already knew.

"He couldn't take it, I should have known. He couldn't stand the thought of being like that, without any reason. Reason was and still is one of the most important things for us and it seemed he just lacked any. And so it was that one day, I heard a noise."

Sherlock stopped shortly, registering the thought of actually saying this.

"It was loud, very loud. Louder than anything I'd ever heard before. I was just a boy. I couldn't take it." His voice cracked. "I ran over and found him, in his room. Dead."

"Everything was loud. And I saw him, laying there in his blood and-" Sherlock stopped completely, a strange depriving feeling around his eyes. "So loud. I shouldn't talk about it."

"Yes, you should. Please." John, sympathetic. "Please."

"Sadly, the gun was empty. I wanted to-" Sherlock shook his head. "No."

John's eyes lost themselves in Sherlock's. A hug couldn't be prevented and didn't want to be anyway. John breathed in Sherlock's scent deeply. "I can be so happy that you're still here, lord. What would I do without you?"

"Carry on." Sherlock looked down on John's shoulder.

"Sherlock, no. I'm not a part of Bohemian Rhapsody, you matter to me."

"Bohemian Rhapsody?"

"Doesn't matter. All I want to say is that I couldn't live without you. I couldn't."

"Good." Sherlock hugged John tighter. "Then you'll see why I can't let you go to the army."

John didn't reply.

"But I see, you really want to do it- I don't want to stand in your way." Sherlock said, his voice muffled. "You go."

"You'll let me?"

"Yes, if that's your wish." Sherlock's hand embraced John's cheek. "And now, let's get to the fun part of the evening."

John grinned. "Alright, just one more question: How did you stand it?"

"At first: not at all. I tried a few other times, but I was young and stupid. And then I found you. That's it."

"All of it?"

"Oh, and that's how I became a sociopath. I think I wasn't one before. According to the '_friends_' I apparently had."

"How boring." John grinned. "I like this version of you far better. But I guess I would love you anyway, no matter."

Sherlock smirked and simply let the evening take its turn. Let him forget himself for just one night. A night none of them would ever forget. As it maybe was the last one they would ever share.


	8. Chapter 8: Breathe in the Jawn

**Disclaimers dayumers: I DON'T OWN! *SCREAMS IN METAL VOICE* UAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!**

***coughs* Hello, everybody, I hope I haven't scared you off or something. :) That is normal behaviour for my kind. My best friend is doing things to me...**

**I'm sorry for not updating as much and often as I did before in other stories. And I'm also sorry for not responding to your PMs as often and much as I'd want 's just uaghhh- I'm just a bit stressed at the moment. I still love you. **

**Please, please, please review and tell me what you think. It would seriously make my day. And if not then that's okay, I accept you. *HEAL THE WORLD; MAKE IT A BETTER PLACE. FOR U AND FOR ME AND THE ENTIRE HUMAN RACE, LAA-LAAA-LAAAAAAAAAAAAA!* **

**I'm normal.**

* * *

Sadly, the last day stood on everybody's doormat. Most people were already packing, but Sherlock couldn't be bothered. And he wouldn't, not even by John.

John stood in their tent, cursing. He should have given this more thought, this gay thing. Sherlock would make the most horrible husband, if they ever were to marry. He couldn't even make scrambled eggs. But to his defence, John hadn't even attempted to teach him. We all know what that would lead to.

The main thing Sherlock did was think, the best he could do in this absolute mess. He mentally prepared himself for the shitstorm he was about to set lose, but the decision had been made. He would do this sooner or later anyway, even if that meant the risk of losing John. But to hell with it: life was short, he should live it. Or as the cool kids would say: YOLO!

He had learned a few things or another around here, whether that was for good or for bad was a whole other complex construction of thought. But who was he to judge?

Stubborn as he was, he couldn't back away anymore. And didn't want to in any case.

He was an idiot, but he had had his whole life to process it. He could deal with it by now. Especially with John by his side.

* * *

"John, you're a good mate." Gerd smiled sadly, patting John's arm matey-ly (meant in the non-reproductional way). "England 's one good man short now."

John nodded, equally sad. "I'm happy to have seen you all one last time before I leave."

Gerd nodded in his turn, withdrawing his hand. "Take care, hm?"

"Will do, sir." John saluted as Gerd took his leave.

"John please, you'll have enough time for that later." Sherlock scoffed irritatedly, standing a few metres apart from the small man, fidgeting with his hands. "Please-"

"Alright, sir." John mocked as he saluted.

"John this is no fun."

"Well, it's supposed to be but you never understand." John sighed.

"How can I see the fun in your dea-." Sherlock shook his head mechanically as his eye twitched. "Anyways, we should be going now. Have you said goodbye to the others?"

"Yes, although Bilbo's been a bitch. He couldn't decide whether he should simply stay or go."

Sherlock laughed. "Well, I like him. He looks a lot like you."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Yes, although I'm not sure for whom."

"You just decomplimented the compliment..."

"Is that even possible?" Sherlock grinned, taking John's hand. "Let's go, hm?"

"Okay, just wait one sec. I think I forgot someone."

"No, you didn't."

"How would _you_ know?" John raised his eyebrows.

"I am officially authorized to stalk you."

"What?"

"I'm your boyfriend. Isn't that what boyfriends do?"

"No, yes, what?"

* * *

The others were quite quickly taken care of, just as fastly as Sherlock wanted them to. This was his lucky day. It could turn out to be the opposite, but he would live up to his new catchphrase: Life is almost as short as John, so you better live it. Breathe in the Jawn, as long as you can.

And make something out of the Jawn. Preferably a wife.

* * *

So there they were, back at the flat. Just like old times.

Only that it didn't feel like old times. This was not the 221 B that they had left behind. And the people they were weren't the same either.

Sherlock soon did something to stop John's irritatingly poetic train of thought, doing nothing more than make this story even more corny than before. Yes, that's still possible. Don't judge.

He kissed John, right in the mess of their flat, not leaving John any breath to talk about how the room should really be cleaned, mind you, Mr. Holmes and there were so many dishes-. Maybe this hadn't only been an act of corniness.

John hummed into the kiss, making Sherlock feel John's warming voice. And it was absolutely beautiful, tingling Sherlock's mouth and letting him feel what he had always desired, but never knew he had. Love.

It seemed that Mycroft was wrong with his hypothesis. Sentiment wasn't merely a chemical defect found on the losing side. It made him stronger. And he really hoped it did so too for John.

"Sher- Sherlock, I have something for you." John tried to ignore the sight of gorgeous lips that spread right in front of his. "Wait a second, will you?"

Sherlock nodded as noddingly as one can, smiling a smile as if the world was all happiness. Which it truly was at the moment. "What is it?"

"I said wait a second, can't you do that for once?"

"I thought for about one second. Then I started to talk, doesn't that suffice?"

"Hmpff-." It came out of the other room. "Ha- found it!"

John grinned broadly, making his way over to Sherlock. "Now then, open it!"

Sherlock nodded as before. "But you should know that I also have something for you, John."

"Well... want to fetch it?"

"I don't know really- whether you'd qualify it as a present or not, but I hope it will do." Sherlock patted his back pocket. "Ah.- but I guess I'll open yours for firsts."

"No, no, no- please, I'd love to open yours." John gave Sherlock a reassuring smile. "Come on, Sherl. You know I love presents."

"Yes, no- well." Sherlock fidgeted with his hand. "I don't know whether you'll like it."

"I'll like everything, no matter what."

"Well, you can't be sure, can you?" Sherlock sighed, having found his target in his pocket. "John, I want you to know that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and-"

"Sherlock, you're avoiding the subject." John smirked. "Come on."

"This _is_ the subject." Sherlock breathed in nervously. "I know I am not good at this stuff, emotions- you know. But I love you- and I want you to know-"

"You don't need to tell me that, I already know,-?"

"John, you don't seem to get it." Sherlock bit his lip as he pulled out a little blue ring box. "Will you ma-"


	9. Chapter 9: chapter of undevoted love

**Discaimer: Don't own, do your research**

**Love to all the people who have followed this little piece of insanity, I can't thank you enough! You really mean worlds to me, thank you! *hugs you tight and never lets you go***

**I don't know for how long I want this to carry on, I'll just say that it won't be too long. Maybe I'll do a sequel, who knows? **

**Anyhows, have a fun day, don't let yourself be stressed and please enjoy this little chapter! And if you have something to add or want to say something about it, please do! It would make me smug. ;) **

* * *

"Soooo." John said slowly, his mouth forming an O-shape. "Wait, you're asking me to marry you?"

"I was about to, yes." Sherlock said anxiously, unhabitually blinking every one and a half seconds. "If you hadn't-"

"-interrupted, you, yes. Sorry." John bit his lips as a nervous chuckle escaped them. "Won't happen again."

"Well, I won't have to ask you again, will I? Hopefully." Sherlock glared at the opened box, the fragile ring shining patiently only for John's answer.

"Erm, Sherlock. I guess I cannot-"

Sherlock tilted his head away from John, drawing in a deep breath to follow his motion. "Oh, I see- you're not-"

"No."

Sherlock blinked one last time. "O- okay." The box was closed quietly.

* * *

Persistence was neither of essence nor of use and Sherlock saw that there was no point. As John didn't seem to see the point of marriage either, Sherlock let himself quietly fall down onto their bed. Or soon to be merely his.

John was out to fetch some air, or just in the other room, Sherlock didn't know. John must surely have had a lot on his mind; else he would still have been here, with Sherlock. But Sherlock couldn't say he missed him, not at the moment.

Somehow, he felt off, not here. Sherlock couldn't put his finger on it, but there it was. He should have been prepared for this, this happened all the time, didn't it? It was a perfectly acceptable thing to happen, especially to his analytic mind. He was sure this was no more than he deserved.

But Sherlock didn't, didn't want to accept. Didn't want to know that being lonely was the end. Of everything. Not this time.

Sherlock rolled himself to the other side, digging his hands into the sheet. Thinking of what was about to come. John would leave anyway, but differently this time.

They wouldn't kiss; they would most likely not even find the strength to look into each other's eyes. Just because, just because life was shit, stupid. Sherlock nodded persistently, tugging the sheet closer to him, just to be able to smell John. How pathetic.

Maybe there was reason to cry, maybe there wasn't. He wouldn't anyway, he never did. Just came close. All that he would do is lie here and wait for the whole thing to stop. He closed his eyes. Pointless.

* * *

This had definitely not been the way John would have expected this day to go. At all. A marriage proposal, from bloody Sherlock Holmes at this time? John shook his head slightly, cautious not to let Mrs. Hudson see his inner conflict while passing.

"Good morning, dearie. The last two days, hm?" She smiled into his direction. "It's sad to see all the good men go to battle, my brother was just like you. He-." She shivered, the smile slowly creeping back on again. "Doesn't matter. Just take care, will you?"

"Of course I will, Mrs. Hudson." John nodded, facing away from her. Just the few steps-

"You've always been such a good boy, I would- and. Don't do this to Sherlock, he couldn't stand it." A harsh line of concern formed on her forehead. "Promise?"

"I promise." John smiled the most reassuring smile he could muster, not being able to fully find reassurance himself. "Nothing else."

* * *

Just this once, John was willing to give up. To creep up in a hole and never come back out again. He didn't want to do this to Sherlock one bit. John wanted to marry, he really did. And especially Sherlock. In his mind, John had already everything in mind, from the suits up to the cake and the table decorations.

But not now. Not in this time. Not in the time he knew that he could be dead within two weeks from now, it would break Sherlock.

John knew that this had already broken Sherlock in a way. Sherlock didn't want him to go, he could tell. The whole turned down marriage proposal thing might also have a longer-lasting effect on Sherlock than John wanted to admit to himself.

But having a dead fiancé in Afghanistan would be the worst thing to happen to Sherlock. Because there would be so much hope. So much hope, save for when it was shattered it would only hurt more.

It would kill Sherlock. This was John's way of saving Sherlock, the best he could do. At least there would be some hate against John brooding up in Sherlock, some negative feelings. He would be able to survive it better this way, if he had something in hand.

John knocked on the door thrice, with force.

There was a reason behind all this; John just didn't want it to be true, to actually happen. Both ways would make Sherlock empty. But there also was a reason for his going to army, why he did all this in the first place.

All the disappointment. His family, father. This was the only reassurance he could get. His father would at least be satisfied with him once, for now. If he weren't dead.

John sighed. His father would have been proud. If only he could see. Gay men are worth something, he hadn't thrown his life away. He was worth something. He had followed in his father's footsteps. Like a good man.

Sherlock didn't open the door.


	10. Chapter 10: spread the feels

Disclaimer: UaghsjdhasfkjdbfjbsadjbsgbJBSKJBAKSBGKJBGKJBASSKFJGBkjbsdgkjbb cvbadfüihtitrhijqaj4erjh! (you probably get my point, I don't own :O)

Hehe, well. That's a great beginning for the last chapter isn't it? Hahey, I don't care, as long as you can still enjoy the chapter without being too pissed off, everything is fine. :)

I can count myself so happy to have you wonderful people out there, who are all so ruddy brilliant. *loves* Thank you so, so much! I love you and couldn't thank you enough. Ever. I wish I could cuddle you all so hard.

Special thanks go to **_MidnightWillows_, _ELLYNARA3_** and **_FaithfullyShipping_**, who just warm my cold, abandoned heart with their nice words. :) Still, I don't know what to say! You're so amazing. *feel the love*

**Hehe if you should, by any way, want me to write a sequel or something, please just PM me or write a review. Let's just say, if this reaches either 50 reviews or 50 followers (which it will never have), I will definitely write a sequel. Deal?** *shamelessly seeks attention*

Hehe, well. Have fun. And sorry for the irritatingly long author's notes. Byebye! ;D

* * *

Sherlock- Sherlock, I'm sorry." John took a deep breath, his hands fiddling with his jumper. "You know I- can't you let me in?"

The only answer he received was silence. "_Sherlock_?" Persistent silence. "SHERLOCK!?" Very persistent silence.

Sherlock rolled to the other side of their bed, covering his ears with cushions. John should open the door by himself somehow; he was a soldier after all. Soldiers feel no pain. Because Sherlock, the hell, wouldn't open that door for all Mycroft's horses.

Not after all that had happened, Sherlock was furious. Why shouldn't he be? John was the bloody content of and reason behind his entire life and he had turned him down. The thing he loved most. And still did.

He clung close to the ring which was still in his hands, the cold metal reminding him at least of a link to reality. Something he could hold onto.

"Sherlock." John sighed. "You could really do with opening that door, you know."

Very, very persistent silence. Sherlock rolled around on the bed yet again, as he rolled his eyes irritatedly, his arm slumped carelessly over the edge. What a bore.

"Please? I'm sorry, Sher'-"

"Good lord." Sherlock complained. "Alright, alright. Good-"

The door was opened in a hurry, letting a dishevelled Sherlock in sight. And a completely miserable John in Sherlock's. They were just the perfect two.

"Pack up your things." Sherlock demanded quietly.

And after that Sherlock remained completely silent, retreating to his former position of bed. But this time facing the wall, his lanky frame the only thing John was able make out. A consulking detective. Right what he had needed.

"Sherlock- I'm only doing this for your own goo-"

"We seem to have a different idea of mental health." Sherlock turned around another time, his face this time facing John. Were you supposed to get belly aches from this sort of thing?

"I'm a doctor, I should know what I'm talking about." John smiled at Sherlock insecurely. "Coffee?"

"No. And no, I don't think you know what you're talking about." Sherlock glared. "Just look at-"

"What?"

Sherlock shook his head disbelievingly, falling back into silence. As the both of them did for a while.

"Sherlock, there's one last thing I have to tell you though." Since John didn't get an answer, he simply went on. "I have to visit my sister once before I leave, so that means-"

"When?"

"Three hours."

"But-"

"I can't bring you with me; you'd only be trouble. My sister doesn't like you, so-"

"So, you're leaving me for your sister?"

"Yes, she's been lonely for long and I love her, the alcohol's just been tough on her. I couldn't let her down, don't you get that-"

With that remark in mind Sherlock left the room, the ring dropping to the floor with a clink. Sherlock didn't exchange another word with John, this was enough. Enough to know that this was it. For the both of them. The end.

Because John Watson had abandoned him once again. So Sherlock would do so too, finally and for once and for all. This was only fair.

They didn't fit and they wouldn't- even if John was to survive. The difference was too big. They had been tearing from the very beginning. This was just the final crack.

'_Goodbye, John Watson. ' _He wrote quickly on a piece of paper _'And good luck-SH'_

'_P.S.: I am gone.'_

And so he left the flat, knowing full-well that this was maybe the last conversation that he should have ever had with John Hamish Watson, his John. Knowing that these were the last words he ever said to him, the last moment he saw his little soldier, breathed the same air as him. John could die. But it didn't matter, what did?

Since Sherlock knew exactly what he was going to do next.


End file.
